


roses in the rain

by tinyvessels (sundazed)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Dates, First Meetings, M/M, strangers to possible lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:42:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25639714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sundazed/pseuds/tinyvessels
Summary: With only three days left till he's set to leave for another country, Jeonghan is certain that this date would be pointless. That is, until he actually meets his date and finds himself inevitably charmed.
Relationships: Lee Seokmin | DK/Yoon Jeonghan
Comments: 17
Kudos: 77





	roses in the rain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sciences](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sciences/gifts), [leridon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/leridon/gifts).



> Ross, this is all your fault. I appreciate you a lot, thank you very much for dragging me into this. ;u;
> 
> V, this is also for you, my way of welcoming you to the tag as well. Don't disown me pls. Thank you for your support, always! <3
> 
> (title taken from Coldplay's 'Us Against the World')

Thunder roars as the rain falls more furiously outside, and Jeonghan wonders for the thirteenth time that evening what the hell he’s doing in this dingy hole-in-the-wall restaurant, even though the answer is crystal clear. 

Joshua Hong. 

It was Joshua who—for all of his philanthropic endeavors, angelic face, and generally warmhearted nature—had threatened to kick Jeonghan out of the apartment if he didn’t go on _this_ date. This date that he’d ecstaticly arranged behind Jeonghan's back.

“Everything okay?” His date asks from across the table, and Jeonghan narrowly stops himself from listing _everything_ that’s wrong right now. 

In his head, Jeonghan had already written a strongly-worded review of the restaurant right from the moment they slid into their booth. 

To start, the tables are greasy, the ceiling is leaking, and the whole restaurant faintly smells of wet dog. 

On top of that, it took an hour for the food to be served, and the waiter, when he _actually_ deems them worthy of his attention, sends Jeonghan daggers every time he asks for a water refill. 

It’s dark, it’s stuffy, it’s nothing like Jeonghan is used to.

But Jeonghan would never post that review, not in a million years, for a few rational reasons.

 _One_. The food is incredible. Soonyoung says you can tell if a restaurant is worth your money if they have good kimchi, and _fuck_ , the kimchi here is phenomenal. As phenomenal as fermented cabbage could ever get. 

_Two_. The owner is an absolute sweetheart. She treats them warmly, like they’re family visiting for the holidays. She gives them extra _everything_ and checks in on them whenever time permits.

 _Finally_ , and perhaps the biggest reason Jeonghan would never have the heart to give the restaurant anything other than five stars, his date. 

His date, who Jeonghan can't help but think looks out-of-place sitting there with this bleary background, had been the one to cheerily suggest they go to this place. Lee Seokmin, revered musical actor, with his messily-styled dark brown hair, pristine white button-down splashed with what he shares is an abstract painting of roses (a design by renowned visual artist and _his_ best friend Minghao), and perfect rows of pretty teeth. 

He’s handsome. And _definitely_ Jeonghan’s type of attractive. 

Seokmin smiles at him, and Jeonghan _hates_ hyperboles, but he swears it could light up the room, maybe even the entire building. 

And, most importantly, it makes him smile, too.

“Yeah, everything’s _so_ good,” replies Jeonghan before shoving another chunk of meat into his meat. He closes his eyes in satisfaction. “This is the best gamja-tang I’ve had in a long time.” 

This earns a laugh from Seokmin, who’s also in the middle of devouring his bowl of galbi-tang (which tastes like heaven, too). “It’s _crazy_ good, right?” 

Taking a sip of his cider, Jeonghan hums and takes a bite of kimchi. “I think I’m in Narnia.”

When Seokmin laughs again, Jeonghan debates internally whether he likes hearing it because the validation makes him feel good or purely because the sound itself makes him bubble with unadulterated happiness, too. He concedes and decides it’s a bit of both. 

“Joshua hyung said that you’re flying to Sweden soon? To study interior design?” Seokmin asks after they've plown through half of what they ordered. 

Jeonghhan sets his chopsticks down and gives Seokmin his full attention. “This Saturday, yeah.”

Seokmin nods knowingly, eyes trained on Jeonghan as a shy smile plays on his lips. “That must be tough.”

Jeonghan wipes at his mouth, suddenly conscious of how he looks. “Everything’s set, actually. I’m all packed, I’ve said my farewells, everything’s arranged logistically. At this point, I’m just waiting for that plane to take me.”

“But emotionally, you know, leaving everything and _everyone_.” Seokmin stretches his hands on the table to emphasize his point. It’s endearing as _fuck_. “I mean, every time I have to fly out for work, my heart breaks a little when I say goodbye to Coco, no matter how brief the trip is.”

“Coco?”

“Oh, my baby girl.”

Jeonghan almost chokes on his cider. “ _Baby girl_?”

“Sorry—are you okay? I meant my _dog_.” Seokmin looks genuinely concerned and adorably amused at the same time.

Jeonghan chuckles, more to himself than Seokmin’s choice of words, and gives him a thumbs up. He drums his fingers on the table and shrugs, “It’s only three years.”

“Maybe.” Seokmin picks up his spoon again and absentmindedly stirs it around his empty bowl. “But three years could be a long time when you’re alone in a place you hardly know.” 

  
  
  
  


The first time Joshua told him about how he’d arranged a date for him with a guy from his company, Jeonghan had simply laughed at his face. 

“Who wants to go on a date with someone who’s leaving, anyway?” 

It was a few weeks ago, and Jeonghan had been in the middle of packing his _only_ luggage—Jeonghan believed too much baggage would only wear him down—when Joshua dropped the bomb on him. 

“I just want you to meet him, okay?” Joshua, perched atop Jeonghan’s luggage while Jeonghan tried to zip it close, whined the same way a four-year-old would when denied a cookie before dinner. 

“But why now?” Jeonghan grunts, pulling the stubborn zipper around. 

Joshua explained that Seokmin had been away for tour and would only arrive back in Seoul Monday, the same week Jeonghan is scheduled to leave. The date is set for Wednesday, and Jeonghan leaves for Sweden Saturday. It was pointless, honestly. 

“This is the only time both of you are single at the same time and in the same country, okay? I think he could be really good for you.”

Jeonghan huffed, “How terrible of a person am I that you think I need someone to tame me?” 

“Oh, _you_ are diabolical, Yoon Jeonghan.” Joshua narrowed his eyes at him.

“Diabolically sexy?”

Joshua groaned before standing up to grab a pillow. Jeonghan is quick to assess the situation and shields his face with his arms. “Ah, what now?”

“Stop” _—hit—_ “being” _—hit—_ “so” _—hit—_ “difficult!”

“I just don’t understand why you insist on playing matchmaker, Josh!” Jeonghan matched Joshua’s height, trying not to look as defeated as he felt. “For the last time, I’m not looking for a relationship. And if you haven’t noticed, I’ve been struggling to say goodbye to everyone else as is.”

Minimalism, the thing that drew him into the Scandinavian style of living, had seemed so easy, especially since Jeonghan never really acquired any hobbies or collected anything growing up. 

But when put into action: decluttering, packing up his apartment, and shoving everything into black trash bags, it was not as breezy as Jeonghan had anticipated. 

His mother _and_ Marie Kondo were right, everything he owned held a memory—of a time, place, person in his life. Letting go of most of it took a lot of self-reflection and bargaining with himself, but like the most difficult times of his life, those three grueling weeks also flew by. 

Now all the clothes, books and other knickknacks he’d amassed over the years sit either in their family’s storage room, a friend’s shelf, or the landfill.

However, slowly letting go of people proved leagues more difficult than that. Soonyoung, Seungkwan, and Mingyu arranged farewell parties ( _plural_ , three separate ones, even though they invited the same circle of friends) over the weeks leading up to his departure. He’d broken up with Minhyun a year prior for lots of different, justifiable reasons, but Joshua would definitely call him out on his bullshit if Jeonghan says his career wasn't the biggest one. 

Joshua called him merciless; Jeonghan thinks it’s the smart thing to do.

“That’s what I don’t get. It’s only three years,” Joshua sighed and threw the pillow at Jeonghan without the hostile force he used just seconds ago. Moving to sit on Jeonghan’s bed, Joshua fumbled with the handmade bracelet, the one that matched Jeonghan’s, around his wrist. “But you keep saying goodbye like you’re never coming back.”

Jeonghan never really believed in living a structured life; he enjoyed rolling with the punches and tiptoeing around the rules whenever he could help it. This isn’t to say that he didn’t work hard—he always worked himself to the bone, always did whatever he could to get what he wanted, no matter what it took. 

“Can you please come back here and help me?”

Unwillingly, Joshua stomped back and crossed his arms. “So?”

Jeonghan tried the zipper again. “What?”

“Are you?”

“Am I what?”

Just as the zipper finally decided to cooperate and let Jeonghan lock his luggage close, Joshua pressed on. “Are you coming home, Jeonghan?”

“Come on.” Jeonghan rose, surveying his then-sparse room for anything he’d forgotten to pack. He laughed, though quite uneasily, feeling the intensity of Joshua’s gaze on him. “I haven’t even left yet.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


With Joshua’s almost-standard description of Seokmin—sweet, bright, funny—Jeonghan had initially thought they would have trouble finding common ground. 

This turned out to be a terrible miscalculation, as Jeonghan found himself getting lost in Seokmin’s animated anecdotes about backstage mishaps and solitary meals in hotel rooms. And when it was his time to share stories about his own personal travels abroad, Seokmin held onto every word, chasing them as if he were worried he’d miss a seemingly important detail. 

“I saw you in Xcalibur twice, actually. You have a really great voice.” And Jeonghan means it.

Jeonghan had retrieved that memory from the deepest recesses of his brain, and for most of the evening, he's been trying to reconcile that Seokmin—confident, intense, relentless—with the Seokmin—warm-eyed, occasionally stammering, incredibly cozy—seated in front of him. 

He’d seen the switch onstage then, too. How Seokmin, endearingly stunned, had looked up at the audience rightfully giving them—giving _him_ —a standing ovation. He'd been so immersed in his role that it seemed he’d forgotten he was performing in front of a hundred people. And then he smiled—the biggest, sweetest smile—and walked off the stage with several humble bows. 

“Thanks,” says Seokmin before doing the liberty of counting their change, perhaps in an attempt to mask the blush that instantly blooms on his face. Jeonghan has to consciously stop himself from asking how someone who acts for a living could be so transparent with his emotions. 

“Pick anything you want,” Seokmin tells him on their way out, pausing at the freezer filled with ice cream by the door. “Auntie Miran overheard us and said it’s her farewell gift to you.”

Jeonghan decisively grabs a strawberry-flavored Melona, his hand brushing against Seokmin’s, which is still hovering between the red bean and chocolate Samanco. He waves the ice cream and shouts a _thank you_ to Auntie Miran who beams at him. 

When Jeonghan looks back at Seokmin, whose eyebrows are knit in concentration, he’s still mulling over which flavor to get.

“Sorry.” He rubs his nape. “Haven’t had ice cream in a while, want to make sure I make the right choice.”

Jeonghan finds it _cute_ —finds _Seokmin_ cute—how much thought he’s actually putting into picking an ice cream flavor. Leaning against the wall, Jeonghan tucks a hand into his pocket. “Take your time.”

“Auntie Miran’s looking to renovate actually, but her son Junghwan—the brooding teenager?—has to go to college and she’s saving every penny for that,” Seokmin shares as soon as they walk out of the restaurant and into the quiet and stillness of the night. He tears open his ice cream, red bean, and carefully bites into it. 

The rain has finally let up, and a quick glance at his watch tells Jeonghan that it’s only two minutes shy of 10 P.M. They were in there for almost four hours and Jeonghan hadn’t noticed. 

“She’s really nice,” comments Jeonghan, “The food was beyond anything I could’ve expected.” 

“She is, yup. And no offense to my mother, but I dream of Auntie Miran’s doenjang jjigae when I’m overseas.” Seokmin falls into step with Jeonghan, and they walk side by side back to the main road, enjoying their dessert. 

“I found it when I’d just moved to Seoul, around seven years ago. I was seventeen and I missed my mom all the time, but I couldn’t tell her that because my dad would only tell me to come home. But stubborn little Seokmin didn’t want to come home. He didn’t want to quit, and… I never did.”

Jeonghan realizes that had it been anyone else, he’d probably listen with detached curiosity. And perhaps it’s too early to tell, perhaps Jeonghan’s blinded by the momentary comfort and happiness he feels right now, but Seokmin is a lighthouse with legs and Jeonghan is helplessly drawn to him. 

Jeonghan hums to tell him he’s listening, and Seokmin continues, “I go there whenever I can now, usually when I get back from abroad, kind of a tradition. Along with everything else, their gamja-tang never changed. It always tastes the same as my mom’s.”

“My taste buds would like to thank seventeen-year-old Seokmin for that experience then,” quips Jeonghan, to which Seokmin chuckles. 

“I know you’re not used to places like that, so that probably decreases my chances of ever getting a second date with you,” Seokmin starts again, rushing through his words all while avoiding Jeonghan’s gaze, “but I figured you’d probably miss getting home-cooked meals a lot when you’re in Sweden, and this was the only place I could think of, so…” 

It’s in this moment that Jeonghan fully realizes how good of a person Seokmin is. And the comfort and happiness Jeonghan feels around him could match the way he feels around family, around Joshua, and makes him forget about the weight of his responsibilities without completely abandoning them.

It’s bizarre, definitely, how at ease Jeonghan is with Seokmin, considering how he’d been a complete stranger to him only hours ago. How Jeonghan gets filled with the desire to protect this seemingly oblivious yet deeply experienced cheery soul from all things cruel whenever he sees him smile. 

He’s never going to tell Joshua, or any other living being, about this, but it’s a thought Jeonghan is for sure going to lose sleep over tonight. 

And, like clockwork, rain starts pouring again.

“ _Shit_ ,” Seokmin mutters as Jeonghan pulls him under a nearby bakeshop’s canopy. “We forgot our umbrellas at the restaurant. If I make a run for it, I think I— _what are you doing_?“

Jeonghan takes out his phone and wallet, and wraps it around his coat. “When was the last time you danced in the rain?” 

Only two years stretched between them, but if Jeonghan has learned anything from Seokmin and his stories tonight, it’s that he’s as young and free as he allows himself to be. 

Slightly breaking the momentum, Seokmin looks at him like a deer in headlights. “I don’t know. Ten… twelve years ago?” 

Jeonghan laughs, less over Seokmin’s confused face and more about the absurdity of his own invitation. It's cold, it's dark, it's late. They'd freeze their limbs off later when they walk under this rain to the parking lot two blocks over. But recognizing the sheer stupidity of it does not _necessarily_ stop Jeonghan from doing it. 

“Come on,” Jeonghan eggs him on. “It’ll be fun, Seokmin-ah.” 

Seokmin traps his lower lip with his teeth and assesses the situation one last time before finally taking off his coat and placing it adjacent to where Jeonghan had placed his on dry ground. 

“Ready?” Jeonghan bravely offers his hand and a smile. 

Seokmin takes it in a heartbeat. “Okay, I trust you.”

Lightning strikes, thunder roars, and they move as one, swallowed by an army of raindrops. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“You came in very late last night. How was your date?”

There’s a malicious smile on Joshua’s face when Jeonghan walks into the kitchen the following morning. He makes a beeline for the cupboard. 

“Are you _sick_?” Joshua sounds alarmed, and Jeonghan could already imagine the frown on his face. He finds some aspirin soon enough and downs it with a gulp of Joshua’s water. Sniffing, he doesn’t dodge Joshua’s hand when he presses the back of it on Jeonghan’s forehead. 

Intent on keeping the details to himself, however, Jeonghan settles with, “It was fun.”

The worried expression on Joshua’s face is quickly replaced with one of excitement. 

“Are you happy that I’m sick?” 

Joshua rolls his eyes. “If you were _really_ sick, then you wouldn’t use that tone on me.” 

“You’re the worst.” Jeonghan pouts and slumps down on the chair opposite Joshua’s. 

“But I don’t know,” Joshua begins, even though he clearly has an idea formed in his head. “It’s exciting, thinking about what could happen between you two now. You know, if you’ll ever meet again.”

Jeonghan clicks his tongue. “I told Mingyu to stop dragging you to watch all those rom-coms with him. Besides, we both knew going into that date that nothing would come out of it.” 

“Come on.” Joshua slides over the last slice of toast. “Does no part of your body really believe in destiny? The tiniest bit?”

“Fate is stupid,” Jeonghan mumbles before biting down on the toast. “But, okay. Just in case life decides to fuck us over and never lets me see him again, I think it would be worth mentioning that yes, I liked him.”

Joshua lights up from behind his coffee mug. “Well, did you tell him to keep in touch?”

“What’s the point?”

“ _You_ are the most frustrating person in the Milky Way,” Joshua groans. “I hope Sweden swallows you up.” He storms off, leaving a trail of crumbs in his wake.

Jeonghan shakes his head at his best friend’s retreating figure and makes a mental note of making _extra_ fun of him when he cries at the airport. 

Jeonghan’s phone buzzes on the table as soon as he finishes washing the dishes, and it’s sort of pathetic how he almost slips on his way over. 

**seokmin [9:56 AM]**

I hope you didn’t catch a cold?

Just wanted to check if we’re still on tonight.

My place, right? Hehe :)

**jeonghan [9:58 AM]**

Just a little headache, but I’ll live. 

Yes, can’t wait!

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I didn't think I'd be writing for this ship this soon, but here we are. Resistance is futile. 
> 
> This is my debut in the SVT ficdom and seokhan tag so please treat me kindly! Kudos, comments will be very appreciated ;n; 
> 
> (another song I had on loop while writing this: stay young, go dancing by death cab for cutie)


End file.
